


A Midnight Ride

by SymphonicRedWolf



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Caring, Friendship, Gen, Questions, Realisation, Reflection, Self-Reflection, Surprises, Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonicRedWolf/pseuds/SymphonicRedWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ivan decides to take a ride on Russia's overnight train. A lot has been weighing on his mind; difficult questions that all Nations are subject to. He wanted a quiet night of just reflecting on himself and the past, but a surprising young eight year old Russian is going to give him much more than he bargained for. Since when could such young children ask such meaningful questions? (Uploaded from phone; forgive the odd spacing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midnight Ride

Night slowly settled over the open land, casting shadows over the pure white snow. The snow flurries continued to fall, spiraling and banging against the windows of the train car, demanding attention from the passengers. A soft giggle echoed through the silent wagon as the train hit a particularly bumpy patch of the track, causing the owner of the laugh to bounce high out of the chair.

  
Tiny hands wiped away the quickly forming fog on the window, exclaiming quietly as light green eyes caught a glimpse of the snow-covered trees quickly passing by. All was quiet as night claimed the Russian land, save for the soft breathing of the only one still awake in the mostly empty train car and the clatter of the wheels as the train continued unyielding in its journey. Face pressed to the glass, the young passenger quickly became oblivious to everything happening inside the wagon as she snuggled up in her blanket, wiping away another layer of fog.

  
She didn't hear the first light knock on the doorframe. Or the second.

  
"Excuse me," came a light, almost childish voice that made the little girl jump and knock her forehead into the window. Quickly she turned to face the owner of the voice, rubbing her forehead and smiling brightly at the tall man standing there.

  
"Oh, hi! Are you looking for a place to sleep?"

  
Ivan pulled the snow-dusted hat off his head, silvery bangs falling just above his eyes. He stayed quiet, surveying the car she was in. Was she alone? There seemed to be no sign of any parents… The girl looked expectantly at him, the childish smile never leaving her face as she waited for his answer. "Well?"

  
"Da, I am. I was looking for a car that was not so crowded."

  
She beamed and waved him in, happy to have guessed it right. "I knew it! You can sleep in here; there's lots of room." She stuck her hands out to prove her point, gesturing to all the empty sleeping spaces available for the taking. "I'm sitting right here by the window, but you can sit anywhere else."

  
Ivan blinked and nodded once, surprised by the girl's friendliness. Most people that he dealt with treated him differently and gave him odd looks like they knew something was different about him. That he was their Nation, that he was representative of them: their thoughts, hopes, wishes, dislikes…

  
«Спасибо,» he said cheerfully, shutting the door to the wagon as silently as he could. "But where are your parents? They will not mind that you are here alone?" He chose a seat on the opposite end of the bench, the girl following him with her eyes.

  
"Mama and papa are asleep in one of the other cars down there. I wanted to look out the window, but there were too many people in there. And this one man was snoring really loud, so I decided to find a quieter car. I wanted to be alone, but you seem nice! Why are you on the train? Going somewhere?"

  
Ivan stared at the little girl for a moment, not quite used to dealing with kids. His interactions didn't go beyond his bosses or other Nations; having a casual conversation with one of his own people was a surprising change of pace. Dealing with a certain group of people for so long had the large Nation forgetting just what it was like to talk to a regular human, even one as young as she was.

  
"You think I am nice…?" Ivan tilted his head a little and smiled. "That is very nice of you. Ah, you could say that… Sometimes when I have a lot on my mind, I like to travel. It helps me think."

  
"Think about what?" The little girl slid closer to him, brushing honey coloured bangs away from her face. She hugged the thin blue blanket tighter around herself, smiling back at him. Ivan had also forgotten just how direct young kids could be; at work, everything was always some sort of secret that had to be protected. Watching what was said was of the utmost importance. But here he was free to speak as Ivan, a simple Russian man, as opposed to Russia.

  
Ivan didn't know why he felt so inclined to tell the little girl about all the things that were on his mind. Perhaps it was because he would never see her again or it was the rarity of the opportunity that he didn't want to pass up. But this change of pace may have been exactly what he needed.

  
"About many things… Myself, the past, the people I work with and for, our future… There is always something to be thinking about."

  
She tilted her head a bit, blinking as honey coloured locks covered her right eye. "You talk about a lot of strange things… How old are you? Oh, and what's your name? My name is Svetlana. I'm eight!" Proudly she held up eight fingers to emphasize her point.

  
Ivan chuckled. "Very nice to meet you, Svetlana! My name is Ivan and I am much older than eight years old."

  
Svetlana giggled. "Is that why your hair kind of looks like the snow outside?"

  
He ran a gloved hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. He wasn't old yet…was he? Not by a Nation's standards, but to a human he figured it would appear that way. "Ah, but it has always been this colour! Even since I was very small."

  
"Wow," she said, surprised at his answer. "Papa has some hair that's your colour, but he's kind of old. But that's really cool! I like it."

Ivan blushed, hiding his face in his scarf. What was wrong with him? He was blushing like a little girl over such a small compliment. A compliment from a little girl, no less! But compliments were not something Ivan was given very often; the large Russian was always happy to receive one, especially one about his appearance from his own people.

  
He thanked her shyly and her giggles filled the car again as she slid closer still, brushing bangs out of her face. "So why are you thinking about all those things? They sound sad."

  
Ivan wasn't quite sure what kind of answer to give to that question. Did he think about them because he wanted to or because it was his duty as a Nation to concern himself with it? Did he think about those things for himself or for his people? Violet eyes looked past the girl, settling on the quickly moving landscape outside.

  
When was the last time he thought about doing something for himself? For 'Ivan Braginsky'?

  
"Well, I think about those things because I have to, da? It is my job to think about the people I work for and try to make sure things go the way they should…"

  
"That sounds hard. Do you like it?"

  
Ivan took hold of one of his scarf tails, rubbing the worn yet smooth fabric between his fingers. He pictured this train ride going much differently. He wanted to think in silence, yet here was one of his citizens—this young human girl Svetlana—asking him all these difficult questions he would not be thinking about on his own.

  
"Sometimes…sometimes it is very difficult and painful… I have to do things I do not want to do and sometimes some of my people…" Ivan bunched up his scarf in his hands and looked down at his lap. "And my bosses are not always very good people…"

  
Svetlana looked around as the atmosphere in the car seemed to grow darker and heavier, Ivan trembling slightly as memories from the past he didn't want to remember began to resurface. She felt a strange pull she couldn't quite understand towards the large Russian—she didn't want to see him feeling like that. She clambered onto his lap and put a hand on his shoulder, surprised violet eyes meeting light green ones. The trembling slowed and finally stopped as he looked at her smiling a little.

  
"Feeling better now?" Ivan just nodded silently. "Yay!" Her infectious smile widened and Ivan couldn't help but smile a little too. She really was a cute little kid and Ivan was proud that she was one of his. "Can I ask you something, Mr. Ivan?"

  
"Hm?" He tilted his head at the sudden question. "Da, of course. What is it?"

  
"You're not like me, are you?"

  
Ivan froze. "What do you mean?"

  
"I mean, you seem kind of different and I feel like I know you. Like…you're like me but you're not. I can't really explain it; it's confusing!" She paused to think, leaving Ivan to grow more and more worried as the silence spread out over the car, clawing at his nerves. "Are you Russia?"

  
The question hit the Nation harder than it should have, leaving him dumbstruck for a few minutes. This secret of his true identity known only to his bosses and other Nations was discovered in a matter of minutes by this young eight year old girl. Ivan had to hand it to her; kids were much more perceptive than they were given credit for.

  
A tired smile played out over the large Russian's lips and he nodded. If she figured it out, there was no point in lying about who he was. "Da. You figured it out… I am Russia. It is nice to properly meet you, Sveta."

  
Svetlana wrapped her arms around the large Nation, giggling. "I knew you existed! I could feel it! My friends all think so too, but I actually got to meet you! My parents don't really believe that you could exist, that what I was feeling was just something that all little kids go through. But you're here!"

  
"You…knew of my existence…?"

  
"Da! It's just kind of like a feeling, like I know there's more to it than what I'm seeing. We can all tell that there's some kind of connection there, but the adults never take us seriously… Mama keeps saying that it's just because I'm a kid and when I'll grow up I'll realise it too and stop feeling like this. And I really wanted to meet you! Will I really stop believing that you exist when I grow up?"

  
Ivan pondered her question for a moment. The fact that his younger citizens could sense his presence was surprising enough, but to hear that some of the adults didn't was just as surprising… What was it that could cause such a thing?

  
Experience. That had to be it.

  
Children were always bright-eyed and eager to learn about the world, more in-tune with things the way they truly are. They were better at sensing the mood and they still believed in magic and fairy tales, eyes not yet clouded over by the darkness and evil that lurked in the world. Adults, on the other hand, had suffered their hardships, their trials and tribulations that molded them into the people they were now. They grew darker and more cynical as they were forced to adapt and make a living for themselves. For them not to believe in the existence of their Nation any longer did not come as a shock to Ivan.

The guilt was still his, though; if only there was something he could have done for them…  
"I do not think so, little one. I think it depends on how you grow up. If you continue to have a connection with your homeland, then you will remember me…"

  
Sveta smiled brightly. "Then I won't forget you, Mr. Russia! I'm going to tell all my friends that I actually met you." She hugged him a little more before letting go to look up at him. "Is that why you were thinking about all those sad things? Does being Russia make you sad?"

  
"Ah, I wish I could say it does not, but sometimes it is very sad to be Russia… I have been around for a very long time and I still remember everything that has happened to me, my land, and my people… There were painful times, but there were also very happy times. I am glad I get to be Russia; to see all of my people grow and to watch things change." Ivan smiled softly, eyes distant as more memories—both good and bad—flooded his mind.

  
One memory in particular came flooding back, leaving Ivan yearning for the old times when they were a proper—albeit strange and occasionally dysfunctional—family. Ukraine was waiting for him at home, tending to the wounds obtained in the latest fight with Prussia. Her eyes widened in concern as she pulled sticks and twigs out of his hair, covering the lacerations while Belarus clung to his arm worriedly, asking if her big brother wanted her to take care of the one who was hurting him.

  
"Do you talk to us a lot?" Sveta's light voice snapped him out of the memory.

  
"Us?"

  
"Yeah! 'Us'! The people who live here in Russia."

  
"Ah, that is difficult… I do if I am out, but not in the way that I am talking to you. We usually try and keep our true identities a secret from our people, da?"

  
"We? So there's more of you? Like there's an America and a Ukraine and a Germany too?"

  
Ivan nodded. "Da, that is right again. There is one of us for every country. Ukraine is my older sister…"

  
Sveta's eyes widened. "Your sister? So you have family just like me? What're your parents like? Are they nice?"

  
Ivan hummed in thought. "Parents? Hm… I do not know who my parents are. None of us do. Da; Ukraine is my older sister and Belarus is my younger sister."

  
"Wow… So even Mr. Russia has sisters!" She giggled. "Tell them I said hi if you see them, okay?"

  
"Alright; I will." Sveta cuddled the blanket happily, wrapping it tighter around herself. She tried to hide a yawn behind the fabric, but Ivan caught sight of it, deciding to pretend he hadn't noticed.

  
"Mr. Russia?" Ivan looked puzzled as the tone of her voice changed. "People keep saying that Russia is bad and people don't like us… Is it true? It can't be, right? You're really nice!"  
Ivan blinked, surprised. Every question out of this little girl's mouth seemed to surprise him even more than the last. Who would have thought questions like these could come from somebody so little? It could have been her age or the innocence of her questions that compelled Ivan to search deep inside himself for the answers; he found himself looking in parts of him he had not visited in a long time. The parts of himself that were more "human" than "Nation".

  
"Everybody sees things differently, I suppose. Whether we are "bad" or "good" depends on who you are talking to… There are some people that will say that we are given past events and some that will say we are not. I think there is no true way to tell."

  
"That sounds complicated… Everyone should just be friends, I think. I don't think you're bad. Do you ever want to tell everybody who you really are?"

  
Ivan laughed a little. "Sometimes… Just to see what they would say. But that may not be a good idea; who knows what would happen if they knew? One day maybe everybody will know, but until that day, it must be a secret."

  
Sveta yawned again, humming softly in response. "You should be happy too, Mr. Russia. Because if you're happy and you're us, then we'll be happy…right…?" Svetlana laid her head against Ivan's chest, breathing evening out as her eyes slowly slid shut. The two sat in silence for a while, Ivan fixing her blanket as one nasty bump knocked it off her shoulders. He smoothed back her honey coloured hair, holding the young child as a father would, making sure she was comfortable against him.

  
Her words echoed in Ivan's head, bringing a lot of interesting things into perspective he had never noticed before. The hardest part for him to wrap his head around was that this realisation came from somebody who probably didn't understand half of what he was really talking about. She had no idea of the impact it had on him.

  
"Thank you, Sveta," he murmured softly to the sleeping child who cuddled against him in response.

  
Sveta awoke some hours later, hands clutched tightly around a piece of dark fabric. She frowned when she realised she was alone yet again in the train car, no sign of the Nation anywhere to be found. The train platformed and she tossed the blanket to the ground, racing for the door. Did he already leave…?! She wanted to talk to him more!

  
Her face slammed into her father's legs and she fell back with a cry, not letting go of the object in her hands.

  
"Oh, Sveta! Are you alright, honey?"

  
She shot up before he could pick her up, rubbing her throbbing forehead. "Where'd he go, papa? Did he pass by you?"

  
"Who are you talking about?" He furrowed his brows.

  
"Mr. Russia! I was talking to him on the train last night when you were sleeping! He came to my car. He exists, papa! I knew he did!"

  
"That's enough of that, Sveta. Your mother and I have told you how many times that this 'Russia' person doesn't exist? You were just dreaming. Go gather your things; we're almost home."

  
"But he does! I'm not making this up!" She pouted and crossed her arms, her father frowning when he saw her hands.

  
"What is that?"

  
She finally noticed the fabric in her hands that she was clutching for dear life, looking at it curiously. "What…?" When she stretched it out, it took on the shape of a hat, her lips turning up into a wide smile as she remembered first seeing Ivan. He pulled this very hat off his head, only it had completely dried over the course of the trip. "Papa, it's his hat! It's Mr. Russia's hat! He left it for me! See? He really does exist!"

  
Her father took the hat from her, looking it over curiously. A small slip of paper fluttered to the ground as he opened it to look inside, the girl snatching it up before it could get ruined. "If you took this from someone, you better give it back to them and apologise."  
She didn't hear her parents as she unfolded the slip, reading the beautiful Russian script with wide eyes.

  
"Are you listening to me, Sveta? You—what is that…?"

  
With a grin, she handed it over to her father who read it in shock, his wife looking over his shoulder with an equally surprised expression. This script was much too formal and practised to have been written by a child, so where did she get it from…?

  
"I told you; Mr. Russia gave it to me!"

  
Her parents locked eyes for a second, staying silent as Sveta took the paper back from her father to read it over again, the smile never leaving her face as she hugged the paper to her chest.

  
«Спасибо за что, что ты в меня верила. Я надеюсь в тебя они верить.  
-Россия»

Ivan glanced over at the station one final time as he stuffed his hands in his coat pocket, smiling softly as he thought of the little girl who helped him in more ways than she could've known. The smile stayed with him for his entire walk home as he thought over his next course of action. She had a point. No, she had many good points and Ivan wanted to share his experience with the others.  
Everyone could benefit from a real conversation with one of their citizens; they just had to be willing to give it a chance.

 

Спасибо за что, что ты в меня верила. Я надеюсь в тебя они верить. -Россия: Thank you for believing in me. I hope they believe in you. -Russia


End file.
